The Magical Mom Bag
by Missmishka
Summary: Post season 1, anyone else ever wonder what else Carol collected in her purse?  Grenades aren't all a smart mom thinks to hold on to...


Because it's 2am again and I feel silly…

**_The Magical "Mom" Bag, by MissMishka_**

DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories embellished on a little more than the show may do. Not for any profit.

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><p>The kids have both gone to bed, but unlike Lori and Rick who had followed their child to bed, Carol lingered around the campfire for once.<p>

It was burning low with the memory of their last fire still a little to vivid in all their minds, but she still took an odd comfort in the moment.

Andrea had opted to stay in the RV rather than join them and no one said anything about that, just as no one save Dale had had anything to say about the other woman's wanting to opt out back there. Shane had also gone off, "checking the perimeters" he'd said, but his absence was barely felt or acknowledged .

While part of her still wanted to cling to Sophia for reassurance that they had gotten out of the CDC complex in time, a growing part also needed that same reassurance that the others had made it too, especially those around this campfire.

Determinedly, she kept her gaze from the silent and almost unnaturally still man across the fire from her. In the all too short time she'd been around him, Carol could not recall a single other time she'd seen Daryl Dixon not fidgeting or fiddling with something like a boy with ADHD. At the moment, though, he was just sitting, staring into the flames same as she, with his arms draped over his pulled up knees, clasped hands just dangling loosely between the slight V of his legs.

Realizing that she had failed in not looking _and_ that that careless parting of his knees as he reclined back against a fallen tree wasn't the best place for her gaze to wander, she jerked it forcibly onward. Only to be caught for just a moment by the smug little cock of his eyebrow that said he knew just where her mind had gone and her eyes had lingered.

With a blush, she sought distraction in the depths of her purse. She passed over the nail file they had scoffed at earlier and tightly gripped, for a moment, the spine of the copy of "The Secret Garden" she had found in the library of the complex and begun to read to Sophia.

So many things, like that book and Rick's grenade, were just put in the bag out of habit as it was the 'catch-all' in her life. Most women had junk drawers for that kind of thing, but Carol had never been able to rely on anything more permanent or solid than the big hobo style bag she often wore over her shoulder like a shield.

Letting go of the book, she felt around some more and accidentally found the tip of her knitting needle. Maybe she should have thrown this one away, too, but given how useful it's mate had been, it was only natural to hoard the item for its protective value, not for the hobby it was intended. She couldn't even remember what had happened to the last of her yarn.

With no item set in mind to seek in her rummaging, she just continued to fumble through the bag and take a much needed inventory of the collected items. Better that than taking inventory of the interesting quirks displayed by the young man…_was he younger than she?_

Her hand paused as she wondered, just barely managing not to look at him again. His actions had such disregard and impetuousness that only a young man could display with such gusto, but when one looked they saw an aging in the dulled glimmer of his blue eyes and in the lines of his face. It was almost impossible for her to tell and age, fortunately, to her way of thinking, was a topic that had never been introduced among the group.

However long you'd lived before the end of the world mattered very little compared to how long you lived after the Walkers had taken over.

"So what else you got in there?" his soft, scratchy voice drawled all Southern like into the quiet of the moment. "Any more tricks up your sleeve?"

The humor in his voice and the sudden spotlight he cast upon her made Carol wish she had another grenade to toss at the ass just to see how cool he'd be then. Instead, she took the words he'd spoken in a kind of challenge and used them as an invitation to be more thorough in her inventory.

Having already touched upon them; the book, needle and nail file were the first items she laid out for them all to see. With a hidden smile and glance towards Glenn, she pulled out a deck of playing cards and let the smile show with a consensual nod when he got excited and asked to borrow them. She rifled through the more personal items-deodorant, extra underwear for her and Sophia, Tampax and Kotex, comb, brush, razors and hair ties for her daughter-not about to put them on display for an all male crowd.

Latex gloves, various bottles of over-the-counter staples like Excedrin, Tylenol, Ibruprofen and, _oops,_ Midol, which she quickly snatched back into her satchel, where added to the pile. Not finding much else she deemed of use to the group aside from a lighter, box of matches, flashlight, batteries, a scarf because she always found some use for it, can of Mace she kept out of habit, "rape" whistle-habit again, Band-Aids, two empty water bottles and an abundance of chewing gum, she brought out the piece de resistance.

Glenn and T-Dog both gaped at the collection before her with a mixture of amazement that it had all been in her bag, as well as looks that indicated their current suspicion that she was a kleptomaniac. Dale just rocked back a little bit on his heels with a small grin at the odd moment out of time. But it was Daryl, whose face lit with a smile of unknown origin, whom she handed the bottle to.

A sparkle of boyish delight pushed the weariness from his blue eyes and he struggled for just a moment to get the cork out of the bottle of wine she'd slipped into her bag as the others had eaten and drank the previous evening. Again, she found herself wishing she somehow had more of an item in her bag, despite how two bottles of wine would have hindered her.

It was a cheap brand, unremarkable vintage and disgustingly warm, but when he popped the top, that man took a moment to breathe in the potent aroma like it were the finest Merlot ever bottled.

"Woman," Daryl said with a smack of his lips as he handed the bottle off to Dale after taking a swig, "I think I love you."

Even she laughed at the line and the wry wit with which he said it and the moment touched her as they found another stolen time to drink and be merry amongst the losses of the day. The bottle came back to her and she knocked back a gulp at their combined urging, hesitating not because of any concern at drinking after them, but just at having never chugged any kind of alcohol like that.

An all too happy hand clapped her on the back as she coughed and laughed over her distaste of the liquid going down and through watering eyes she watched Daryl take the bottle from her and return to his seat as soundlessly as he'd risen. The wink he shot her and grin gently curling his lips were real enough to keep the others laughing, but she told herself it was her misty eyes and the flames playing tricks as he seemed to turn the bottle, then place his lips to the same place she had before he took another drink. As he leant back against the tree after handing the bottle off again to Dale, his gaze flicked up to meet hers.

There was no joking in his eyes, but given her all too recent widowhood, she couldn't possibly take any of this exchange seriously.

_Could she?_


End file.
